


Morning Glory

by Hans_On



Series: Once Upon An October [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Exhibitionist Dean Winchester, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26820955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hans_On/pseuds/Hans_On
Summary: Dean likes to watch his gardener early in the mornings, while he sloths around in his sweats.*Fourth day of Promptober challenge on the Profound Bond server!*
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Once Upon An October [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946686
Kudos: 39





	Morning Glory

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this one was sweatpants - someone on PB is big into this XD
> 
> #11

So sometimes Dean liked to ogle his gardener.

It wasn’t creepy. Like, he wasn’t a stalker about it. He just… liked to watch him.

Castiel was a quiet guy who had been tending his garden for a couple years now. He would mow Dean’s lawn, trim his hedges, had installed a couple flowerbeds by the backyard deck and had taken personal interest in hanging some nectar feeders from his maple tree. 

Dean had tried to put out feelers tentatively a few times, asked if Castiel wanted a coffee a few mornings in the early months but had been blown off. Lunch dates had likewise been declined and the few times he had been able to ‘hang out’ with Castiel had been little more than sitting on the deck with beer between tasks. While enjoyable, all it had done was stoke the itch.

He was still about fifty-fifty on if the guy had realized Dean had been trying to hit on him a whole two years later.

To say Dean was into him off the little bits and pieces he’d learned over the years would be an understatement. He’d almost talked Dean into a beekeepers beginner’s hive last year, after a rather long chat about his flowerbeds over a case. The nectar feeder he was currently refilling had been their compromise.

Dean waved from inside his glass sliding doors as Castiel looked up at the house, the cap pulled low hiding his blue eyes. An almost shy wave back and a gesture encompassing the yard in a finger-circle made Dean give him a nod. He figured Cas meant he was wrapped up, there had been little to do since last week beyond pulling some weeds and refilling the feeder. The lawn hadn’t done much growing and the flowerbeds were the one area Dean could spare ten minutes in the evenings to water.

He watched Castiel walk away, out the side gate to his driveway and heaved a sigh, that sounded pathetically longing.

One morning he’d find the guts to maybe walk out there and be more blunt. Maybe say, ‘hey when you geek out about bees I think you’re cute’ or ‘your eyes sometimes look like the cloudless sky’ or ‘can I finally kiss you’ but today he was daydreaming, lounging about with a robe thrown over his daily uniform of t-shirt and sweats while he eye-flirted and put off suffering over his writing.

He huffed out another soft sigh again and looked out at the flowerbeds. They would blossom in another week by the looks of the buds that were starting to fill. He’d had the joy of watching Castiel, in his individually compassionate and tender way, check each plant, monitoring the soil moisture retention and delicately mulching every one. 

The hands and knees shuffle of that tempting bubble butt had kept Dean engaged in watching long after he would have moved on to his morning coffee. In fact, the robe he was wrapped in was the only thing maintaining the facade of decorum as he was kind of obscenely bulging his sweatpants as he stayed immobile in front of the doors.

He wouldn’t ever do something as indecent as touch himself while watching Cas. But getting off on remembering him, dipped back, thick thighs and alluring curve of his glutes after he was gone?

Dean gripped at himself through soft cotton and groaned, licking his lips as he gave his cock a gentle squeeze. He needed to date desperately - and by date he meant fuck somebody. Acknowledging a year and a half of being practically celibate - his hand and toys and clothed-frotting somebody on a dance floor while drunk didn’t count - was equal to admitting he was stuck on Castiel. 

Maybe he could try to fuck it out on somebody else but really, how fair would that be? Some ignorant guy down on his knees, mouthing at the bulge of his dick that his fingers were teasingly stroking right now, unaware Dean was imagining pink, pouty chapped lips in place of his. Castiel’s wide tongue, muscled tense and thick, swiping a swathe of heat up the length of him. How Cas’ wide, fuck-blue eyes would be all querying, overlaid over the eyes of whoever’s mouth he was fucking? 

Dean groaned fitfully, resting his heated forehead against the cool, ungiving barrier of glass. Jesus what he wouldn’t give to just - Dean spat in his palm and then shoved his hand down his sweats, gripping himself in a tight fist before fucking into it - grab a palmful of one of those ass cheeks or, better yet that goddamn jaw and sink himself home in the heat of Castiel’s mouth.

“ _ Fuck. _ ” Dean moaned quietly to himself, eyes slipping shut as he rolled his forehead on the glass. He could imagine it, see it so clearly - if he marched out onto the deck while Castiel was in the flowerbed on his knees, Castiel would look up utterly shocked to find Dean above him with tented pants and Dean would pull his pants down and tell him to suck. 

And he’d do it - with those innocent blues looking up at Dean and awe in his expression.

Dean leaned full against the glass door, shoving down his sweatpants enough to get the waistband tucked under his balls and heaved out a gusty relieved sigh against the glass. He stroked himself, kneading at his sac before he rutted against the glass with a strangled sound. It felt good enough that he did it a few more times before he cracked an eye open to see what sort of mess he was making streaking his precome all over the glass.

To see jean-clad legs and boots on the other side of the door.

There was a moment of shock after his eyes flew open and he reared back to look up and Castiel was just staring, expression maddeningly-neutral looking down at his junk, before Dean panicked and yanked his sweatpants up so hard he snapped the band on his cock and yelped out.

He backpedaled a few steps, pulling his robe around him in a belated, truly mortified attempt at modesty and Dean stared wide-eyed as Castiel raised a hand in what felt like slow motion and then tapped a fingertip politely on the door.

He couldn’t be seriously… Castiel arched an eyebrow at him as they stood staring at each other. Dean was mentally flailing - what would he say if Dean opened the door? Technically he didn’t know what was in his head but fuck! He’d just caught him masturbating in front of a glass door like a goddamn exhibitionist! - but this was a standoff where it seemed Castiel was willing to wait.

Dean, flushed an embarrassed fire-engine red, took the steps back forward to unlock the door and slid it open a polite amount to talk through, apologies on the tip of his tongue.

“I’d like a cup of coffee.” Castiel cut off and derailed all the piled up excuses and waiting apologies and scrambled his brain onto a new track to keep up.

“Co-coffee? But you said you don’t drink…” Dean was sure one of the things he’d learned early on in his turned down offers was that he preferred tea, especially weird herbal mixes and unless something had changed in the last twenty minutes besides Castiel seeing his dick...

“I’ve been reliably informed that coffee is a polite euphemism for wanting to have sex with someone. I don’t think there’s one for ‘I’d like to suck you off’ so…” And he smiled, a slow, wide thing all full cheeks and gums as Dean’s jaw dropped. “I’d like a cup of coffee.”

He wanted to have sex? Dean pushed open the door so forcefully it thumped against the safety buffer at the end of the roller.

“I-I’ve been flirting at you, and I do mean  _ at  _ you, for ages. You’ve never given me the time of day!” Dean’s voice squeaked out as Castiel took a heavy slow step forward, over the boundary of his doorway and into his life.

“I’m rather hesitant to engage in casual relationships but I have been paying attention…” Castiel murmured slowly, tone explanatory. “Now though, honestly - I have a fetish for erections in sweatpants.” 

Dean spluttered, somewhere between shock and disbelief as he was bodily caged against his kitchen table and physically man-'handled'… but who was he to deny his gardener if he liked looking at Dean’s morning glory.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> (Get it? Big? Into it?)
> 
> Any and all errors are mine!
> 
> (If you want to join PB, https://discord.gg/profoundbond - please be 18+ years, thanks! 💗)
> 
> Comments loved, kudos welcome! <3


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